


Observation is Key

by dizzidanger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Masturbation, Other, akaashi basically fantasizing about washio, definitely not me, no one blames him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzidanger/pseuds/dizzidanger
Summary: Akaashi Keiji has a problem, and it's name is Washio Tatsuki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in my drafts for months. I finished this at like 3am shout out 2 kot (i'm sorry)

Akaashi remembers the little things. 

He remembers how especially loud Bokuto is in the locker room after practice, and despite that he remembers hearing the snarky remarks Konoha muttered under his breath. He remembers how Washio doesn't say anything at all. Washio is, after all, the kind of person who can speak with his eyes- as long as you're observant enough, you knew exactly what he was saying. And Akaashi likes to think himself rather observant, because he remembers seeing a small smile on Washio's lips when Bokuto said something particularly amusing. He also remembered how Washio's muscles looked as he allowed himself to relax under the warm water of the shower. Akaashi remembered how he watched the curve of Washio's back as he closed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head. He remembered how the low, throaty groan that escaped Washio's lips and how it made him  _shiver_.

Akashi remembers a lot of little things, specifically, little things about third year, middle blocker Tatsuki Washio.

Akaashi hissed as he palmed his hardening erection through the front of his pants- his bedroom door had been shut and locked before his mother even had time to ask how his day was. He wishes that he could say this was the first time he'd lusted after his teammate in the locker room and then rushed home to jerk off, but it wasn't. He was filthy, but no one had to know that- definitely not Washio. A whimper slipped past his lips as his hand slipped down into his boxers, his slender fingers wrapping around his hardening cock. He wished his hands were bigger, and warmer (and Washio's) but there was only so much he could do. He remembered one time Washio commented on the size of his hands, how he pressed their palms together to compare just how big Washio's were to his (they were, in fact, a _lot_ bigger, and Akaashi wanted to hold them, and put Washio's fingers in his mouth, and for a moment he even wondered how that open palm would feel slapping his ass).

He would have wondered when it happened- when the innocent admiration Akaashi held for Washio turned into pure, unadulterated lust. He would have wondered when he started getting off to the idea of Washio's naked body pressed up against his, teeth biting into his pale skin, leaving bite marks on his collarbone, just low enough for his shirt to hide. But he didn't have to wonder, however, because Akaashi knew _exactly_ when it started.

It was his first year of high school. To be exact, it was the first time, after one particularity tough practice, that Akaashi had ever seen Washio shirtless. It wasn't a sexual gesture in any way- Washio was simply getting changed. Akaashi had never taken the time to look at his teammates getting undressed, but he was especially _observant_ that day, and Washio was especially  _hot_. The sweat rolled off his neck, and down his back, and Akaashi's eyes couldn't help but follow. It was obvious Washio was built well even when he _was_ clothed, but why hadn't Akaashi noticed until now just  _how_ well? Either way, he did now. He didn't realize he was staring, or even for how long, until he noticed Washio's eyes catch his (with a look of...concern, perhaps? At the time, he didn't know.), to which he turned away and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He found himself in the shower at home that very same night, moaning out as teammates name while he imagined leaving scratch marks down those beautiful back muscles. That first time, it wasn't on purpose. He blamed it on many things- on his raging hormones, the adrenaline, on a lack of anything else to get off to- on literally anything but himself. 

Yes, that first time he told himself over and over was a mistake. But his lusting escalated, and far too quickly. By his second year, Akaashi had all but accepted his crush(?), and moved on from there. He went through all the stages of denial in a little over 6 months, and here he was, simply accepting the fact he was sitting on his bedroom floor with his hand in his pants, because he was too turned on to make it to the bed. All because of Washio Tatsuki. He didn't even know it, either. He didn't know not only his body, but what his voice did to Akaashi. Washio was a man of few words, after all, and it was something Akaashi was becoming thankful for. Because when Washio  _did_ decide it was worth saying something, Akaashi's was the very definition of the word  _weak_. His voice was the kind that rumbled from his chest and sent a shiver through Akaashi's body that went straight to his  _dick_. He was sure Washio could read the dictionary start to finish and Akaashi would still be hard when he got to zyzzogeton. 

But Washio really didn't ever need to know that.  _Ever._ Akaashi was fair and delicate, after all. Akaashi was _not_ a filthy pervert. (He is). 

He moaned, his eyebrows knit together in an expression he'd never make outside his bedroom. His hand pumped his now hard shaft, with each stroke imagining that it was Washio pressed up behind him instead of his bedroom door, his large hands running over Akaashi's body. Washio would get to know every inch of him- he would know that his ears were sensitive, and there was a soft spot near his hipbone that drove him wild. He would make sure to know Akaashi's body better than Akaashi himself would ever dream of. With every quick thrust into his hand, Akaashi's whimpers and cries grew a little louder. His jaw hung slack as he pressed his fingers into his mouth, biting and sucking on them. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine that his own slender fingers were replaced by Washio's cock- stretching his jaw wide, the head pressing against the back of his throat. 

Akaashi actually tried it once, sliding his fingers as far as they would go down his throat. Bad idea- he almost threw up all over himself. He was getting better at it now, though- slowing his breathing, relaxing his throat, taking his fingers in slowly. He was sure that it still wasn't the same as giving an actual blowjob, but he would imagine that he could handle it. Or perhaps he couldn't- perhaps Washio would have him choking and sputtering as he rammed his cock down Akaashi's throat, grabbing his hair in fistfuls. Akaashi's cock twitched in his hand, saliva dripping down the side of his mouth as he pulled his fingers out, immediately rubbing them against the tip of his cock. His eyes rolled back,and he shuddered.

Washio did a lot of things to him. Sometimes, he was gentle. He touched Akaashi with soft, loving caresses, peppering his skin with loving kisses. Washio appreciated every inch of his slender body. Sometimes, that's what Akaashi wanted. Most of the time, though, Washio was not gentle. He pulled Akaashi's hair as he took him from behind, hard and fast, hardly giving Akaashi time to think or breathe. Washio had him clawing at the bed sheets and moaning his name- then Washio would tell him to turn over because he liked to see Akaashi's face when he came all over himself. 

Which is exactly what he did. Akaashi let out a strangled moan that sounded a little like a certain someone's _name_  as his orgasm hit him, cum dripping all over hand and stomach. His head rest back against his door with a hollow  _thud_ , his chest heaving with every breath as he thought about how damn good that felt, and just how awful he really was.

So when his bedroom door swung open without warning, one could say that Akaashi was surprised. Because of all the things he  _did_ remember about Washio, the one thing he didn't was that he had invited his teammate over to help him study- an innocent little lie, an excuse to spend time with alone with him. Utterly harmless. Unfortunately, Akaashi was struggling to remember much or anything as half lidded eyes stared up at Washio, who was finding it rather hard himself to look away. Akaashi is so _pretty_ , after all, and this was going to be something Washio would certainly never forget.


End file.
